


Call Me Brofessor

by Enoisha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 'Tis to be expected, (How do you even tag that?), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anyways, Back To Tagging, Consumption of Blood, I guess that's it actually, I proofread obviously, If you wanna be my beta for some unknown reason I have contact info in my bio, Just as a warning: I don't have a beta!, M/M, Not-ish, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other than that I also have a message about the other fic that I wrote, POV Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider, Porn With Plot, Teacher-Student Relationship, Wack how I'll have a fic with Bro being an abusive douche face and one with him, Well he's not abusive but he's still a douche, but it's all me, for now, in case any of those people wanted to indulge in my BroJohn shit to see if I said anything about it., sorry - Freeform, uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enoisha/pseuds/Enoisha
Summary: Bro had begun teaching at Dave's college in what I can only assume is separation anxiety. Although, while putting his Ph.D to use, he takes interest in a student of his that makes him want to put his other PHD to use. (That's the worst joke I've ever made. I'm so sorry)--Your name is Bro Strider, (also known as Dirk, but not many people call you that. Other than your 3 closest friends, of course) and you're a teacher at your brother Dave's chosen college: Sam Houston State University. You've been a professor in Computer Software Engineering Technology for the past year now. Ironically, of course.Eventually, though, you began to enjoy your teaching job. Just a bit...





	1. - Introduction -

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years everyone! Cheers to 2019!  
> -  
> Hey kids.  
> I'm still writing Hide Out, but I wanted to take a hiatus in order to improve at writing and story building. Hopefully when I make my comeback I'll be back better than I was before?  
> Although, don't expect me to post anything on that soon. I apologize for that.  
> -  
> Anyways! The best way to improve my writing is to write more, eh? At least that's what my English teachers always said.  
> But yes, in order for me to get better for the sake of my more serious fic Hide Out, I'll be dipping into an old guilty(?) pleasure of mine: BroJohn.  
> Well, without further ado, take my second Homestuck fiction of mine...  
> Call Me Brofessor

Your name is Bro Strider, (also known as Dirk, but not many people call you that. Other than your 3 closest friends, of course) and you're a teacher at your brother Dave's chosen college: Sam Houston State University. You've been teaching in Computer Software Engineering Technology for the past year now. Right now, it’s only tomorrow until Christmas/Winter break officially begins.

Originally, you had become a teacher here not only for the irony, but also so you can harass Dave even when he thinks he's finally free from your plush puppet grasp. But no, he never will be, and he has to learn the hard way that the felt grip of a smuppet's small wretched hands will never give so long as you're still alive.  
When originally doing this, you'd thought to yourself, 'hey, I got this fuckin’ Ph.D, might as well use it. Plus, I'll probably only do it for a few years, so whatever; why not.’

You soon realized that this plan was idiotic once you researched the whole process of becoming a college professor. Well, it’s not like you doubted that it wouldn’t be easy, though it began to feel more trivial and laborious.

The fact that SHSU is in Huntsville doesn’t help you either. To give a little insight, you live in Houston. Huntsville is 69 miles away from Houston, meaning that it takes 1 hour and 9 minutes in order to drive there. At this point, is it even worth it? Yeah you get to see Dave everyday until he gets his degrees and sixty-nine is a haha funney number, but you have to see how the pros and cons weigh up. Ugh. You’re an adult, you’re not in school anymore, you don’t want to do this.

That was you the entirety of the summer.

The only thread keeping you tethered to going through with this was that you weren’t a damn quitter. And maybe because you feared this would be your last chance to see your little bro again before he ultimately left you forever to live with his boyfriend in another state, or whatever he was planning; you weren’t about to admit it though.

Little did you know then, you actually started to enjoy it a bit... Just a bit.

You didn't necessarily expect that. Nor did you expect to suddenly get the hots for a certain student of yours. Come on, you do some freaky shit on occasion- well for a living, actually- but would you really stoop that low? Seems so.

This student's name is John Egbert. At a first glance, he doesn’t seem like the type to take a computer software class, but as the days went by, you soon saw all the small tellings that he was a nerd. Rectangle glasses, buckteeth, the way he talked sometimes, you could go on.

Though, that’s all just stereotypes. You don’t necessarily know why he’s here. Of course, the most likely reason would be that it’s just his interest. That probably is why. But, whatever. You can dream.

Though, that shouldn't really be of your concern. Whatever the reason he's here, you're fine with it so long as you're still able to stare at that divine ass from behind your shades. (you’re borderline gleeful that you can actually wear your shades in a college. You couldn't remember if you’d done so without breaking some rule back in college) You'd worship that ass. You're surprised you haven't created a full-fledged shrine for an ass like that. Maybe you will. You'd have to store it in your crawlspace, though. Shrug.

You have to tap that ass soon. And, actually, you might get to. John isn’t only your student, he’s also your brother’s best childhood friend. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, it opens up new opportunities to confidently stride into sexual cahoots with him. With that in mind, Dave asked you if he could invite John over when he returns to the Strider apartment for the upcoming break. He said he’ll be bringing him today. Woah. That’s three whole weeks of John Motherfucking Egbert.

You’d be antsy with excitement if you were anything less than the most impassive fucker on the block; however, you are exactly as such, so you instead just go through the day without showing an ounce of emotion. On the inside, though, you’re already like a flustered school girl as you go over plans you’d previously already crafted into perfection. You’re going to seduce the shit out of this ki- _consenting adult._ Jeez.

You get home as fast as you can without breaking _too_ many laws in order to prepare your smuppet trap that’ll warmly welcome the other Strider back into his former home. He’ll **_love_ **it. Once that’s done, you’ll start the first round of seduction.


	2. First Round of Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said the next chapter would be 3,000 words, but I had to cut it in half. Otherwise, it'd be drawn on for too long. Though I can guarantee that the next chapter will be longer than this one. (Plus, the 'Explicit' rating will be actually used)  
> -  
> Hopefully I was able to deliver a chapter that is on par with the introduction! I really need to work on that. Well, we'll just have to see.

 

It’s you, Bro Strider, back on your bullshit once again. You’ve just stepped out of the shower for two reasons: first, you’re a sweaty rat, and two, this is a part of the plan. You want to test the waters here, really. To see how much work you have to put in and what the next best course of action would be. 

After perfecting your coiffure, you quickly wrap a towel snug around your waist and wait. If you timed this right, Dave and John should be here in about-

“Yo bro! I’m back,” someone yells while excessively knocking(more like banging) on the door.

-now. You walk out of the bathroom without bothering to put on clothes (excluding your iconic shades, hat, and sick leather gloves) with a smirk. You flatten your mouth again right before you crack open the door, just sticking your head out.

“Sup Dave. Sup Egbert, haven't seen you in 6 hours.”

“Mr. Strider?” He exclaims incredulously.

You lift your triangular shades and wink at him, then promptly proceed to place them back down, “the one and only.” 

Dave is confused.

After tightening your towel again,- because you’re a good brother who doesn’t want to accidentally subject their younger bro to their flaccid schlong- you open the door for them. The buck-toothed, blue-eyed k-  _ man  _ immediately notices the absence of real clothes on your fuckin’ hot bod and flushes, his dark complexion turning into a faded scarlet. It’s apparent that he can’t look away. Hell yes.  _ Hell _ .  **_Yes_ ** . 

Alright, Alright. Don’t get too excited Strider, this is only the first step. The fun part won’t be here for a while.

“Wait, John, Is my bro your teacher or somethin’?” Dave asked, whipping his head towards his brunette friend after stepping in and closing the apartment door behind them. 

“Umm, yeah I g-” 

“You  _ guess?   _ Dude. Bro. Homie. Pal.  _ Chum?  _  We have the same last name and we look similar. Why were you even surprised,” he interrogated John, cutting him off. 

You  _ know  _ he’s going to say something about this whole ‘you being a teacher for way over a year without telling him’ situation. You just know it. So, instead of waiting around to hear that, you flashstep into the hallway to go get dressed, grabbing Lil’ Cal along the way. Oh, and to watch your flawless plushtrap unfold. 

 

~^~

 

Once you hear the telltale shout, you’ve dressed into your typical casual wear of a white polo, black jeans, and a belt. You’ve also moved to your room at that point.

You open your door silently to flashstep and place Lil’ Cal down next to where the pile of smuppets is and give him a good view of your masterpiece. What you see is exactly what you expected: Dave and John absolutely drowning in colorful puppets with plush rumps. Beautiful. Ironic. When you return, you almost snicker; although, you do not, for obvious reasons already stated in the last chapter. 

Ironic puppet related pranks are nice and all, but it’s time to focus. It’s time to get down to business. 

 

~^~

 

You’re ready. You’re pumped. It’s Saturday, a day Dave wouldn’t have class on even if it weren’t a break, and your brother has to work from 11am-7pm. It’s time. You’re prepared. You have multiple paths to go down just in case there’s a change in the wanted circumstance. You’re fine. 

You sit down in front of your computer in the living room, take your shades off, type in your password, open Complete Bullshit, and start filling out Smuppet™ orders. It’s a comfortably routine task that makes waiting somewhat durable.

Once it’s 11:30, you realize that you didn’t even notice Dave leave. Actually, you didn’t even hear John opening the door to the hallway and walking into your kitchen. Fuck.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Strider? I-”

“Brofessor,” you correct, on instinct.

He grunts in response, then continues, “is there anything to eat he-”

 

Shit.

 

You flashstep to him, getting him out of the way so he only gets a cut of about two inches length on his forearm after he dumbly opened the door to Blade Hell, a.k.a. the fridge. 

“Aw fuck! Why is that a thing that happens?!” He yelled while directing his royal blue gaze to the cut in his skin that had begun to bleed. You should probably take care of that.

You still have your hand on his arm, so you drag him towards the bathroom, mumbling a, “come on,” whilst doing so. 

When you have him in the bathroom, you clean off his cut and look it over. 

Not too bad. About 0.15 in. deep. Doesn’t need stitches, but it’ll leave a cool scar. You don’t have a bandage large enough; you’ll have to use a gauze wrap. Is that even in here? Whatever. Etc., Etc.

While you’re walking to get what you need, you realize you could easily work with this situation. Yeah, definitely. 

You’ve returned to Egbert after scrounging up some things. John’s been oddly quiet, but you get it. It’s probably a strange situation for him. Right now, he’s looking off into the distance, eyes unfocused, while you clean the injury with a wet washcloth. Oh perfect.

His cut has started bleeding again, as you didn’t actually fully stop it yet. You gently grab his arm by the wrist and lift it up- after crouching down to level your face with it-, watching the red fluid flow down to his bent elbow. He still doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, so you take the opportunity take your tongue and run it up from the bottom of his elbow to where the cut resigns, cleaning up the flowing blood until it decides to leave his body and leak out again. 

His beautiful eyes snap to you bewilderedly. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t seem to know what to say. You lock eyes with him and tongue at his wound. He shivers. You sheath your lingua back into your mouth and grin with only one side of said mouth. 

_ ‘This is unsanitary,’  _ you think as you arise from your previous position. You brush the thought off. Why should it matter now?

You grab the washcloth you left on the sink earlier and place it over John’s cut, applying pressure to it, trying to stop the incessant bleeding.

-

At this point, you’ve gone through the typical steps of taking care of his cut: cleaning it(not with your tongue, sadly), applying an antibiotic, and wrapping it in the gauze wrap you fetched previously. After all that, John’s still acting off. Though, to his credit, he began watching every action you take after  _ that  _ thing you did. 

“You alright dude?” You basically address as such.

“Yeah… Just,” he stops. 

“...Just what?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. It’s fine.”

You shrug it off, not responding to his blatant lie. That is, until you think of something that’ll change the atmosphere. 

You mumble a, “be right back,” and go to your room.

-

You’re back in the bathroom, ready to metaphorically(for now) pull something stupid out of your bullshit asshole. Again.

You lift up a puppet-  _ not a Smuppet™-  _ from where you had gained then hidden it behind your back. 

John groans with an, “oh God,” following after. You smirk.

“ _ Hey John _ ,” the puppet says in an over exaggeratedly high voice. Your ventriloquist skills are fucking perfect, by the by. 

“Please don’t talk to me with that thing. Mr. Strider, I do have hands and I am  _ not  _ afraid to use them.” Oh you _wish_ \- shut up Bro. 

“ _ Oh? What’s wrong with little ol’ Bro? Absolutely nothing, that’s what. I heard Bro Strider was ripped. I heard Bro Strider was  _ **_shredded._ ** ”

“Well, maybe Bro Strider is a little too overconfident.”

_ “Oh he knows. Mhmm. Hubris is the easiest way to hide the eerie creeping of his inevitable midlife crisis paired with already crippling depression nowadays! Speaking of such, did you know it’s most likely to happen in the next year or so? Maybe now? The average age is around 35-40, so his youthful days are soon to be over!! What an old bastard, am I right?”  _

“Okay, okay, stop! Stop with the dumb puppet, or so help me. I am two seconds away from taking your hand out of it’s ass and throwing it into the street.” 

“ _ Awww, Jooooooohn. Don't do that; that’s unfair. You can’t take off a man’s legs then feed him to the dogs.” _

“Oh yes I sure can. Watch me,” he then proceeds to go through on his threat. Or... makes an attempt to. The fast little fucker gets as far as obtaining the puppet and running out of the room before you flashstep in front of him and grab it. You flashstep back to your room.

You chuckle and just barely contain a wheeze when you hear him yell, “what the hell?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I can't wait until I get to write Bro doing taxes.   
> -  
> Thanks for reading!   
> -  
> Hopefully my Texan heritage helps the Strider lines not sound forced. >:7 Many people are very guilty of that. Lmao  
> [When it comes to Bro and Dave's dialogue (and a little of Bro's inner commentary) I base the way they talk off of the way I do. I don't have any family that was **born** in Houston and have adapted to having an accent from there yet, so I'll just have to hope I'm southern enough for these coastal twats]   
> [ALSO CAN I JUST SAY I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE JOHN???]  
> [I'm so sorry]


	3. You can’t spell success without succ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I wish it hadn't taken so long to get this chapter finished. But, when the new semester had come, I'd been focusing on college a bit more. I never actually had time write. And, if I did, it wasn't much.  
> Although, now I'm back into the swing of things. So, here's the next chapter!  
> [By the by, the process of creating a software takes a Hell of a lot longer than a handful of weeks, but I'm keeping it short for plot sake]

It’s around 1:30 PM when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You’d been working on your Christmas present for Dave, so you quickly shove it off to where it isn’t visible. 

You open the door to John picking at his bandages, it already being frayed a tad. You grunt with a questioning uptick instead of voicing any actual words. 

He looks up at you and swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing enticingly. Quickly after, though, his eyes flick around to anything but you.

“Uh, there’s something I was  _ going  _ to ask you earlier this week, but, um, yeah. I was having trouble with the part of the assignment my group gave to me and I was wondering if you could help me out? Maybe?” He says in a rush so fast that you’re just barely able to process it. 

“Sure,” you respond casually, stepping off to the side, allowing him entrance. "Make yourself at home." 

John blinks as if he’d expected you to turn him down, or something. Immediately, he walks in and stands in the middle of your room, wringing his hands together hesitantly. You retake your seat in your computer chair, rolling over towards and patting your bed, signaling him to sit there. The student obeys, but doesn’t say anything; he just looks off to the side. You guess it’s up to you to lead this conversation. In the back of your mind, you note that he’s not usually this nervous.

“So, what was this about?”

His eyes focus on you again and he makes an expression that looks like he just remembered why he was here. He raises from his seat to pull a paper out of his pocket and hands it to you.

-

Two weeks ago, in your class, you’d grouped up your students and assigned them each a small list of guidelines in order to program a simple application software of their choice. They had until the day back from the break to finish.

Each group was a pair. One person was to do the bulk of the coding, while the other’s job was to design and test the software/fix any mistakes that were missed by the first member. In order to make the amount of work done fair, you decided to repeat the assignment, but switch pairs and make sure the design and test students would then code. 

According to John, he and his partner decided to start off simple and make a chess software. Boring, but John isn’t very experienced in coding. Well, he’s been doing it since before he was 13, but he was never really  _ good  _ at it. 

Anyways, they’d already finished designing last week, as they were supposed to, but Egbert still isn’t confident in his ability of programming. He wanted your help right when he started, but felt weird about it. Not until now did he think it was the right time to ask you about this.

\- 

You look down at the piece of notebook paper he handed you. On it are design notes to help him with the program. Okay. You scoot over to his placement on the bed to actually teach him. 

You decide to help him by walking him through a bit of the process, though still allowing him to actually input the codes on his own into his laptop. Tactile learning. It always helped you understand subjects more in school. 

After an hour and a half of this, you get through about 25% of the basic part of the software. 

“Holy shit. Thank you so much, Mr. Strider!” He says when you decide to stop for the day, giving you that charming buck-toothed smile of his. 

“Brofessor.”

“Don’t ruin the moment. I swear on Nanna’s grave if this ‘ _ gag’  _ continues, I’ll quit the class.”

“Aw, why would you waste such a fickle promise on poor ol’ granny Egbert?”

“Shut up,” he intelligently responds. 

You chuckle at that. “You know you think I’m great.” With an intake of breath, you drop your arm along his shoulders. 

Glaring at you, he counters, “I do  _ not.  _ I’ll have you know that I think you suck, and I hate you, _ ”  _ his childish retorts become contradictory when he relaxes into you, leaning into your side. Oh Hell yeah. You hold him tighter, peacefully closing your eyes as you both get quiet. 

After a few quiet beats, John speaks up again. 

“Hey, uh..”

“Hmm?” You hum in response. 

He sighs. “What the fuck was that thing you did?” He abruptly questions you.

You open your eyes and blink. “What? I’m not sure of what you mean,” you reply whilst looking at him with a squinted gaze. 

“Oh, you know! The thing you did when patching up my arm,” he states, beginning to pick at frays in his bandage again.

You silently snicker. “What are you talking about? I did many things then…”

“Uh, the weird thing!”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific. You’re kinda describin’ my whole existence there, kid.”   
He looks directly into your eyes, going against what he was avoiding this whole time. “Are you kidding me?”

You just simply shrug. 

“Y’know!! When you, uh,” he looks away from you, breaking eye contact. He mumbles,  “When you licked my arm or whatever.  What was that about?”

When you outstretch your neck to see his face, you’re met with your student having flushed profusely. Smirking, you use your free hand to pull up his uncovered arm up to your face. “Ah, like this?”

You only press your tongue to his arm, but it’s enough to remind him. He quickly snatches it away. 

You chuckle at his reaction. Removing yourself from him, you get up from your office chair. When standing in front of him, you place your large hands on both sides of his face. You can’t escape the urge. You have to. 

You push his cheeks in, and smirk at his pursed lips. Adorable. Though, you don’t think he agrees. He draws his eyebrows down and tries his best to frown. 

You give him a light peck on his head. He freezes.    
Letting out a sharp huff of breath, you inform him, “You owe me for helpin’ you out today.”

He blinks. “What? I do  _ not.  _ Isn’t it your job to do that?”   

“Nah. Doesn’t count if I’m not gettin’  _ paid,”  _  you respond. You’re not gonna be helping your students too much after school hours. Especially not in your own home. What kind of person does he think you are?

John rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Well, what would that be? What do I ‘owe’ you.” 

Questioning how you should answer that, you decide to be blunt and get out exactly what you want.

“Suck my dick,” you offer, finally removing your hands from his face. 

“What?” 

“You know exactly what I said.” You counter, but still restate your previous statement, “I want you suck my dick. Just go ham on my skewer. Slob on my knob. Slurp my tube of yogurt. Tongue my testies. B-” 

He cuts you off. “Okay, okay. I get it. Please stop. I’ll do it.”

You didn’t expect him to comply that easily. Softly, you brush your hand along the side of his face, telling him, “Good.” 

Just as softly as your hand’s caress, you press your lips to his, finally connecting yourself to him. You’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you first saw him in your classroom. You move your mouth against his, then licking across his bottom lip. But, before he can permit you access, you break away, leaving him disappointed. 

“Oh,” you lightly chuckle, “No need to look so damn sad. There’ll be more of that later.” You hardly even remember how much he let off displease at this situation. Though, when you do give it a thought, you’re unsure why he switched so quickly. 

You extend your body upward, towering over his sitting self. You place a hand on top of John’s head, giving it a quick ruffle, as you use the other to begin on your belt. It clanks as the metal hits against itself, and damn are you happy that Dave isn’t home. For now. 

You aggressively tug it out of your jeans’ loops, allowing it to drop to the floor. You hum, then move your hands to the sides of his face again, telling him, “Why don’t you do the rest, hmm?” 

He looks up at you, the eye contact sending a shiver down your spine. He smiles coyly, “Yeah, sure.” Once you let go of him, he pops the button out of it's hold, and sends your fly down. Dropping your jeans to the ground, he places his thumbs within the elastic of your underwear, pulling that down as well. You grunt as the fabric rubs against your half chub.

You snatch a bottle of lube from a drawer in your nightstand. Nothing to special, really. Just flavorless and clear. You're not a fan on that tooty fruity shit. You hand the bottle to him, and he gets to work coating you with the gel. 

He wraps his hand around it, jerking it back and forth, until it stands at full mast. 

Before he does anything, you ask him in a gravelly voice, “You ever done this before, kid?”

He looks away from you. “Ish...” His eyes glaze over in thought.

“Look, how about I lead, okay?”

He only shrugs, before engulfing your cock as best as he can. Surprisingly, he gets an alright amount before you feel it hit against his throat. You smirk and tilt his head, shoving more of it down. 

“You’re gonna need to take more than that, kid.” 

His eyes slightly tear at the pain, but that’s fine, you suppose. “You alright there?”

He gives you a thumbs up, and you pull your member back. As you expect, you see his eyebrows tilt up in confusion. Though, he doesn’t have to wonder any longer, as you quickly go to thrust back into his throat. It’s a tight squeeze, but it only makes it feel better. You continue that process, starting out slow, and quickening as he opens up.  When you reach a harsh pace, all you can see in his eyes are the whites. More tears well up in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything to show he’s struggling. You wipe the salt water from his face as you charge on. 

Your breathing quickens, as well as his. You can hear the breath leave through his nose, and feel his thrumming heart. Breathing out moans with various grunts, you allow yourself be as loud as you want. After all, Dave isn’t home. You don’t care for what your neighbors below think. Actually, you don’t even know if you  _ have  _ neighbors. ...Anyways. 

Biting your lip hard, you’re not able to continue, at least not without pain. When you feel you’re on the edge, you pull out of him. As his strings of saliva drip from your red and swollen cock, you spill yourself on his face, half of it shooting into his mouth before he snaps it shut.

“Ugh. Gross,” he informs, licking his lips. 

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” 

“Can I spit this out in a trash can?” 

“No, swallow it.” You order in an assertive tone. He does as you say easily. Damn are you good at that.

You give him a brief kiss and step away from him. “You should probably get going now… I  _ think  _ Dave is getting home soon.”

“Oh, come on..” He grabs you by the hands, leading you back to your bed. 

“What.”

“It’s only 4:32,” he points to your digital clock placed on your work desk, “Can’t we lay down a bit?”

You shrug. Why not? So long as you don’t actually sleep. 

-

**Whoopsies.**

You’d held on to John until your light snoring filled the room. 

When he’d gotten out of your bed, you promptly woke. He stopped in his tracks, and turned to you.

“Oh, you’re awake. It’s 6:50.”

“Fuck, is it? Wait, were you actually  _ tip-toeing?”  _ You are incredulous right now. Is he kidding himself?

“Did you know that you snore?” He counters, ignoring your question.

“Really. What does it sound like?”

“I mean, it’s not bad! Like, it’s barely audible. It’s almost like you have a CPAP connected to you,” he squints his eyes, “Wait, do you?”

You just groan and fall back. You think you hear him whisper 'You do!', but you wave him off, “Just go. If we stand here and talk, Dave’ll already be home and I ain’t dealin’ with that.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he rushes out of the room, leaving you to fall back asleep.

But, one question remains in your mind: What will Dave do when he finds out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if the sex scene is very good, but I'm tired. I believe I make up for it in the next one!  
> [ I'll be posting the next chapter very soon! I actually finished it before this one. Whoops. ]  
> Also, note that this fic finally becomes more explicit in each chapter. ;0


	4. Whoopsie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wack. Here's the next chapter! Today we get a little farther, but is it as far as John would like? Why do I always end these with Bro falling asleep? So many questions.   
> I'm beginning to work on our next chapter, so hopefully I can get it done as quickly as I did this one, eh? I'm around 1000 words in, so let's see how long it takes.

With your eyes cracked open only a sliver, you examine your bedroom. As an amber light comes through the window, alighting your room with a glow, you lightly remember that someone was in your room yesterday. Ah, yes. You think you helped John with something? Yeah, yeah. That’s right…  
As you go farther into your mind, flashes of yesterday afternoon flicker across it, along with various questions. What time is it? What happened between when he left and when you fell asleep?  _ What did you even do? _

And, that last one… You may have the answer to. You shoot up from your bed in realization.  
You just fucked a kid. Okay, well there’s two things wrong with that sentence, other than morally.  You didn’t have full _‘intercourse’_ with John, and he’s a young adult. But, shit if it doesn’t feel that way, though. You didn’t really expect that you would feel this scummy about it. Do you, Bro Strider, have a heart? Nah, that shit’s still made of glass.   
But no, this isn’t the time to think of your fucked up psyche.   
Wiping your eyes, you rise from your bed. Oh yeah, Dave’s off from work today. _Fuck_. 

Something you can’t do because of that. 

You shrug, and open the door- That is, until you realize that if you leave your room, you have a little brother to deal with. How come you had to not only reveal that you’ve been working at his college without his knowledge,  _ but also _  basically fuck his best friend in the face. This is all your fault, isn’t it?  
Though, you open the door anyways. Looking down the hallway, you catch the blue eyes of John looking at you from the futon. But, where’s Dave?

You decide to ask him that, “Hey kid. Where’s Dave?”

He blinks, then answers, “Oh- uhm, he went to the store.” He focuses his eyes down, down, down, until they hit the floor. He doesn’t look up. “I didn’t go… Because that was on.”    
He points to your flat TV, which projects some Nic Cage flick you don’t know the name of. Wait…

“I thought Davey said you grew out of those,” you say to him with a hint of suspicion. 

“Well, yeah! Obviously. It’s just- it’s just nostalgic for me! Yeah, it sucks, but I  _ had  _ a childhood, surprisingly.” 

“Oh really? Crazy, dude,” You mock

John clears his throat. “Well, if you’re going to be that way, just leave me alone.” 

You chuckle and flashstep towards him. He looks up in shock, so you use that moment to press your lips against his, slotting them together. As you begin to move your mouth with his, he copies your rhythm. You hold his face with one hand as you plunge your tongue into him. What can you say? You enjoy touching his face. John doesn’t seem to know what to do in response, so you take the lead. You mash your lips harder, almost bruising Egbert’s. You take in his scent, examining what cologne he uses, and deciding that he definitely showered today. That leads to… Not very appropriate thoughts, but you charge on. As you trail your tongue within his mouth, tracing every part of it, you brush your hand against the short stubble he’s begun to grow. Its scratching hair pokes at your palm and before you get to go further, you hear the doorknob turn. 

And, as if you were never there, you disappear from the room.  

-

Later that day, a knock comes to your door. John? Oh fuck yes, it’s time for round two. 

You quickly hop up from the project you’re working on and rush over towards the sound. Shifting your mouth into a smirk, you open the door, and take in a breath to speak.

“H-”

“Bro.” Someone cuts you off. And, that doesn’t sound like John…

“Oh. What’s up, Dave.” You say nonchalantly, changing your smirk to a flat line. 

“Nothing, nothing…” He glances to his side. “Care to tell me why you’ve been working as a  _ teacher  _ at my  _ college  _ for, huh, how long?” 

“Eh. Only this year.”

Dave sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You roll your eyes behind your dark shades. You’d only put them on recently. 

“Obviously because I have separation anxiety, why else?” Though you say it in a sarcastic voice, you really do. You’re like a little chihuahua who can’t deal with its owner leaving for more than five hours. 

“Wait, hold up. Really? What, are we on that bald Galaxy dude’s cat show right now? Does that even come on anymore?”

“Nah. And, it’s Jackson Galaxy.” 

“You saying that makes believe it more, actually.” 

“And you should probably apologize for calling him ‘Bald Galaxy Dude.’”

“Bro, I know you’re a crazy cat lady in disguise, but even some deranged, rabied six year old can see that you’re trying to change the topic. Badly, too.”

“I am not.”

“A crazy cat lady, or changing the topic?” 

“...Shit, you’re right. I was going to say ‘crazy cat lady,’ but I think you’re right on that front.” 

“I knew it! Fuck- maybe you are changing the topic well.”

You lift your shades and wink at him.

“Don’t do that. Anyways, why are you a teacher? Wait- no,  _ how  _ are you a teacher and haven’t lost your job yet.” 

You shrug in response, following it up with, “I just have a Ph.D, no deal.”

“ **_What_ ** _.  _ ‘No deal,’ the man says. I didn’t even know you finished  _ high school.”  _ His hands move to his face, like the kid in Home Alone. You know that pose. 

Not Bro Strider you, but- never mind. 

“Yeah, I did.” You huff in amusement, “Did you really think I learned how to program entirely on my own?”

“UH, YEAH. KINDA.”

“No need to yell, lil’ man.”

“Sorry, I just- this is all so much to take in.” 

You shrug. “Anyways, you done? If you wanna go freak out, you can go do that in your own room,” you say, beginning to shoo him with your hand.

Eyes wide as possible, Dave lifts his arms to align with his shoulders, letting his forearms dangle to the ground. He shuffles away, sideways. 

 

-

 

Sadly, you weren’t able to see John since this morning, but you made good progress on Dave’s Christmas present.   
What is it, you ask? Wait why would you be asking that to yourself. Fuck second person perspective.   
Never mind. ‘You’ don’t get to know. And, well, you don’t have time to explain anyways. For the second time that day, you hear a knock at your door. 

Feeling the urge to groan, you get up from your chair, shoving your project aside and dropping your shades from your head. 

With the utmost tired expression, you open your door. “What do you w-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Stride-” someone begins.

“Brofessor,” you correct by instinct. Wait… “John?”

He rolls his eyes, releasing his hand’s tight grip on the back of his neck. “Yeah. Who else would it be?”

You glance at your digital clock. It’s 10:06 PM. No wonder it’s John. A small smile spreads across your face. 

“Of course. Now, John, what do you need?” You voice shifts from its original harsh, stony tone to a more lackadaisical coat of honey. 

He flusters. “Uh, yeah. I know that Dave’s asleep right now, so… Y’know...” He trails off, voice lowering to a mutter. He begins to fiddle with his hands.

You take off your triangular shades and blindly toss them to your work desk. “Yeah,” you chuckle, “Okay. Why don’t you sit down?”

John looks over to your bed, but steps forward towards you instead. He wraps his arms around you. Your arms do the same by instinct. 

Uhh. Okay?    
“Why are you doing this,” you answer with a monotone. 

“Oh, and you act like you’re not enjoying this,” with his head buried in your chest, you can’t see his expression, though you imagine it’s smug.

You kind of forgot that hugs were a thing, but you’re glad they are.   
He holds onto you in his warm- and surprisingly somewhat strong?- arms for a while longer, bordering on awkward. That’s fine, of course. You wouldn’t say you’re happy- God no-, but you’re admittedly pleased with this circumstance.   
…  
Umm…

You think he got lost in his own mind, or something, because this hug has gone on for a while. Well, you know what that means!!  
Sliding your gloved hands down from his back, you act like the creepy old fuck you are and place them over his, uh, buttocks.   
Has he not noticed? John hasn’t moved that much, really. How sad.   
Whelp, you’ll gladly take what can be extracted from this moment.   
You take your delicately placed hands and squeeze his exceedingly plush ass. Jeez. You need to take notes. Who knows how much more the Smuppet ©  business will boom if you can imitate this.   
Immediately afterwards, he straight up squeals. You hope Dave is a heavy sleeper, ‘cause that was loud as fuck.

He shoots away from you, through the still open door, and exclaims, “Dude!” 

“Sorry,” you reply in obvious insincerity. 

“Ugh, why would you do that,” he (sort of?) asks whilst (absolutely) flustered. Heh. 

You give out an amused ‘hmph’ in correlation to that little fact. 

“What  _ now _ .” 

“Oh, nothing…” 

From across the hall you hear a loud bang, as if someone hit their fist against a door. Wuh oh. 

“JOHN!” Screams an angry Dave, obviously awoken by the student’s noise.

“Sorry, Dave!” John yells back. 

He looks back at you and just gives a shrug, face saying, “Sorry?”

Rolling your eyes, you place a hand back onto his ass, one foot shutting the door. Attaching your mouth to his neck, you back the pair of you up until you reach your bed. Which, then, you bite down, not hard enough to bruise. You’ll get there another day. 

Plopping yourself down, you question him, “So. What’s on the agenda today, my lil’ smuppet,” you waggle your eyebrows. 

“Did you just call me your ‘lil’ smuppet’?”

“Look, okay. I’m trying. Answer my question,” you defend, shaking your head.

“Oh, well… Do you think we can take it a little further? Y’know, rather than just oral.” 

Oh yes, oh yes. You’d been hoping he’d say that. You grin with about half of your mouth, rubbing your hands together like a villain. Which you might be? No, no. That’s for later tonight when you lay in your bed, thinking of all the wrongs you’ve done. 

“Sure, of course. What were you thinking?”

“Maybe, uhm…” He trails off, then pats his ass.

You bust out laughing. “What, are you a child? I’d love to, but the answer is no. Sorry.”

His eyes widen in shock. “What?! Why n-”

“I know you’re an adult ‘n all, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that with you yet. I already feel bad enough.” You twiddle your fingers on your knees rhythmically in unsurity. 

“Oh, really? I didn’t expect that from  _ you  _ of all people.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But, my shack, my rules. How about intercrural,” you offer. 

“Inter- what now? I’ve never heard of it,” he admits incredulously. 

“ _ Intercrural.  _ Between the legs. It’s like regular anal, except it’s between your thighs.” 

“Are you saying you think I have an STD?”

“No- what? Why do you think that. Honestly, I assumed you were a virgin.” 

“Well, you’re not w- nevermind. Sure, sure. It’s fine for now.”

You smirk. The two of you  _ do _ in fact have a while to get to that point.

Maybe it is a good idea to start with this. If he is a virgin, then can he really take you?

-

The pair of you are placed upon your bed, clothes discarded, him laying with his knees to the ceiling, and you just in front of his legs. /  
Clear lube coating your fingers, you open his legs with one hand. 

“This’ll be cold, okay? You alright?”

“Shut up,” he responds quickly. 

Shrugging, you lather the inside of his thighs with the chilly liquid. Wait, is it even a liquid? It is, right? Fuck, you have Ph.D, but you don’t know if a gel is a liquid or not.   
Wait, wait, wait. Obviously, liquids take the shape of the container it’s actively held in. And, solids have a definite shape, as well as a definite volume. So, given that, a gel should be a liquid, right?   
Okay, that was easy. Fuck. You’re an idiot. 

John snaps at you, eyebrows pulled down. “Mr. Strider.”

“Brofessor. ...Sorry.” 

Once you’ve basically cleaned your fingers on his inner thighs, you position yourself where your phallus lines up with the space you’ve given yourself.   
You’re halfway through beginning to thrust when John cuts you off. 

“I’m not gonna get gonorrhea or something because of this, right?”

“What.” ??? That’s all you have to say. 

“Fucking… I don’t know? I’m just checking. Y’know, I can’t ju-”

You place your hand over his mouth, stopping him from speaking. When it was just you wistfully wishing for this moment to happen, you’d crave for when John’d finally speak during class. Whether in a group project, or to ask a question. But, now that he can’t seem to let you do anything without interjecting, you can’t help but hate his voice.   
Not really, but it sure feels like it. 

Letting your other hand form a death grip on John’s right thigh, you shift your funky flesh rod down until it’s about an inch above his. With his lower legs resting on your shoulders, you thrust into him, not all too hard, though. Eventually, you work up into a fast and ruthless pace. Once you’ve hit a point you’re content with staying at, you let your mind wander and focus on his face. His beautiful, debatably sexy face. Very debatably.   
His dark, full ‘brows tilt upwards, a bead of sweat trails down between them. John’s sparkling, royal blue eyes are half closed, with his long eyelashes surrounding them as their perimeter. 

Your breathing is the only this that matches him. Panting, almost hyperventilating. In, out. In, out.   
You moan softly, calling his name within small breaths. The possibility that someone might hear looms over you. You’re not sure whether that terrifies you, or it turns you on more. So long as you  _ don’t  _ remember that it’d be your brother to hear.   
Small groans and moans come from you two. John seems to avoid saying your name, but you understand. 

It doesn’t seem he can take it anymore, his cock red and twitching. Evidently, he’s almost finished. You can agree on that front.   
Teasingly, you hover your hand, which was earlier lifted from his mouth, above his desperate member.   
Just like you expected, he pleads at you. Mumbling nonsense with the occasional “Please.”

“Alright, alright. Say, let’s make a deal… You call me ‘Brofessor,’ and I’ll give you what you want.”

His teeth grit, but he obliges.   
Through small gasps with every striking thrust, he utters the nickname, “B-Brofessor?”  
It leaks with unsurity, but it’s good enough. Following a grunt, you jerk him off. Following the rhythm your dick provides, you tear your fist up and down. Pre-cum already sprouted at his swollen tip, so you use it as your lube along with your palm’s sweat. Nasty. In the back of your mind, you hope he isn’t being chaffed. 

Not long did either of you last after so. Giving one last push, you spilled your fluid across his stomach. He soon follows suit, spilling himself and getting a few drops on your chin. That’s what you get for bending your torso ever so closer to him. But, fuck it. You’re tired. 

Once you’ve dropped his calves from your shoulders, you slam your body onto the bed next to him, still panting.    
Turning your head to him, you meet his eyes, and say something you've been wanting to say during all of tonight…

“Your dick is small, dude.” 

He bolts up, now sitting. “What? No it’s not,” he defends.

You laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

“You know it’s not, dude.” 

“More like I know it  _ is _ .” 

Instead of choosing to reply with words, he just groans, falling back on the bed.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. It’s like, average.”

“Better than nothing, I guess…” He mutters. 

Chuckling lightly, you wrap an arm across his torso, and begin slowly drifting off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just sayin', in the next chapter John calls Bro a Chad.


	5. A Little Fun in the Sun, Wouldn't You Say? (Except there's no sun)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -But There Sure is Fun)
> 
> My chapter titles are very, very strange.  
> _  
> I don't have much to say, but I'd like to thank you guys for reading my bullshit!! And especially for leaving kudos and comments. Sometimes I forget about the fact that people are actually reading this and that I'm not actually just yelling into the void. So, once again, thank you. You- yes, you- really the main reason I'm continuing to write these chapters-- no matter how long they're taking me >>  
> (Really lovin' the hyphens today, I guess.)  
> -  
> Oh I forgot? Happy birthday to me?? Like- Damn? I'm old?

You awake to your two most hated things. A loud alarm, and John complaining. 

Shutting the former off, you wish that you could do the same to the latter. 

“Ugh. I feel all crusty. Why did I want this.”

You shrug, “Hey, that’s not  _ my  _ fault. You were free to go take a shower when I fell asleep.”

“And not take the chance to shower with you? Yeah, no.”

You crack an eye open at that. “You’re saying you want to jack each other’s willies in that tiny ass shower? You sure you want that.”

“Is there a problem?” Though he still flushes at your bluntness, he seems a lot sassier this morning. Is that just how he is? You wouldn’t be surprised...

“Boy, have you ever looked at the size of that thing? Have you seen the size of _me?_ You really think we can both fit in that?”

“We could try. C’mon..”

“Egh. Let me sleep and I’ll think about it.” 

“You’d really rather sleep right now than fuck me in a shower? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“First of all, of course I would. Second, who said I was going to do that? I don't feel like swapping wiener juice again right now.”

He sighs, then responds in a sad tone with his horrid puppy eyes. “Whatever... Who’s going first?” 

Rolling your eyes, you give in. “You’re lucky I’m capable of sympathy. I’ll do it, but you’ll be the one explaining to Dave why we came out of the shower at the same time-”

“-And dealing with noise complaints?”

“Yup. Now, gone get. I’ll meet you there.”

-

Taking a random pair of a shirt and pants, you walk out of your room, your naked self and all. 

You see Dave sitting on the futon, playing some Tony Hawk Pro Skater game you have.

“Hey Bro. You takin’ a shower?” He doesn’t turn to you. 

“Yeah.”

Dave finally looks at you, though he seems to regret it, wincing at your free shlong. “You know John just went in there, right?”

You only shrug, “So long as he’s just in there to take a wiz.” 

The younger Strider shakes his head as you make your way to the bathroom.

-

John’s waiting there, with no clothes brought with him. 

You whisper to him, “Hey, John. Can you shriek the way you did when I grabbed your ass yesterday?” 

“Uh… Can I ask why?”

“Just do it.”

He obliges, still suspicious, squealing at the top of his lungs, as if he’s in pure terror.

“Thanks.”

You turn on the shower, the splashing water engulfing any words either of you say. 

“So, uh…” John starts, “How are we going to do this?”

“Easy. Hop in the shower with me, go out before I do, then say you were constipated, or something. Just don’t make any loud noises.”

“I mean. He’s all the way over in the living room…”

“Still. Don’t. If you were a screamer, I’d’ve kicked you out in no time. And I still will.”

He lifts his hands up in a small surrender. “Okay, okay.”

You shove the curtain open and usher him in. Right once he steps in, you quickly follow suit. 

The hot water warms your body as you wrap your arms around John, pressing your body to his back. 

You hum, then ask, “What did Dave say to your absent of clothing.”

“Oh, he didn’t think much of it. He just said, ‘You sleep naked? That’s cool, I guess,’ and went to play that _train-wreck_  you two call a game. It’s not even ironically good- or whatever your excuse is-, it’s just bad,” he answers, making a maybe- possibly- half-good impression of your brother. Okay, never mind, it was pretty exaggerated.    
You slot your mouth on his shoulder, biting down hard. 

“Yeesh! What was that for?”

You ignore him, sucking the skin into your mouth. Instead of chastising you again, he moans softly. 

“You good, bud?” You pop your mouth from him, chuckling. 

As he grunts at your insufferability, you trail your hand down his body, slowly reaching his flaccid penis. Ew, gwoss. He breathes in sharply as you take it within your hand. This  _ is _ what you’re here for, right?

As you work him up, he questions you, “You ever measure your dick?”

That came out of nowhere...

“Hmm, not really. I’m sure you do, though.”

He gasps in mock offense. “How could you! But, no. I just wanted to know the length.”

“Why would you want to- Ugh.” You try to imagine a ruler in your head, and decide, “If I had to guess, I’d say 8.5? Maybe more? I’m not sure.”

“Jesus. You're a Chad, you know that?”

“Are you really all that surprised? You’ve sucked my dick before. And, yes. I take great pride in my Alpha Male status.”

“...I wouldn’t really call that ‘sucking’ your dick”

You laugh instead of responding, and work him faster. Once he’s pretty much fully erect, you begin to grind against him. 

A moan pushes out from his throat. John tilts his head back, resting on your collar bones. You bite down on the very bottom of his neck, hard. He whines in response. 

“Hope you brought some clothes with you, kid.”

He huffs. “Of course I di- Wait.”

You hum at him, ushering him to go on.

“I.. don’t think I did?” His face goes white, from what you can see, eyes wide. 

You sigh, and mutter, “ _ You _ can deal with that later…” 

Deciding to make him forget about that (for now), you question him, “What is it exactly you want to do?” Whilst nibbling on his ear, you squeeze and twist his dick. It seems to work. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “I don’t know…”

Although you feel no anger, you scratch his torso, still clutching to him with one hand. “That’s not an answer.”

It only seems to turn him on more, pushing another low moan from him, louder than before. You groan in response. It’s nice to know John’s enjoying this. And, you’re enjoying this slow pace-

“John? What was that? And why the fuck are you taking so long? You good?”

Panic freezes the both of you.  _ Shit. _

“Y-yeah!” He yells, then whispers to you,  _ “Fuck, why did you stop?”  _ before continuing, “I think I’ll be out soon!”

You think you hear Dave say, “I swear, if that asshole is doing anything…”

Oh how little he knows… 

You grunt a, “Sorry,” and snap your fist back and forth, quicker than you were going before. 

It’s not as enjoyable as it was originally, but you have to rush; you can’t leave him hanging. Well, that is unless-

You abruptly stop, pushing John out of the shower.

“Strider!” He hisses at you, keeping quiet. You bellow out a hearty laugh as he attempts to open the curtain, but you keep it shut. He continues his attempts to get back in, but you reject them easily.

“Goddammit! Are you kidding me?”

“‘Afraid not, kid. What can I say? Dave’s probably getting his jimmies all shivered out there,” you say, blowing amused huffs every now and again, trying to keep yourself from busting out, laughing. 

“This isn’t funny, Mr. Strider- don’t you dare say it- Do you think I have any clothes to cover up this- this  _ situation _ I’m having downstairs?”

“Hmmpf, not my problem. Sorry, John.”

He grumbles, but rushes out the door anyways. You hear a faint, “...John?” is the distance. Immediately, you soon hear the sound of a door closing harshly. 

Honestly, you were going to let him back in if he persisted enough. Not your problem, though!

* * *

Yawning, you stumble into your kitchen. You’re pretty sure it’s sometime in the morning, but you don't really care to check. 

As you pour yourself a bowl of cereal to hide that lingering scent of morning breath, you hear your front door open, with something hitting your face proceeding immediately after. 

“Mail for you,” mumbles your brother, “How did you not catch that?”   
“Tired.” 

Sighing, you pick up the fallen mail. Probably all junk, or formally written complaints. You still haven’t figured out how they somehow get it to your apartment. Don’t you provide a fake house for the return address? 

Anyways, you quickly skim through the bunch, if only to pretend like you care. For once, something catches your eye. Written are large letters- likely written with a pink sharpie- that say ‘Roxy Lalonde,’ as well as your name in full with a little ‘to:’ before it. 

What the fuck? Actually, wait. You’re not that surprised. She’s so fuckin’ extra. Deciding to go ahead and open it, you find a letter, of course:

 

_ Dearest Dirk Strider (Di Stri),  _

 

_ It is in my utter happiness to inform you that-  _

_ just kidding!! i cant keep that up for much longerr  _

_ anywyas im writing that i will be arriving to ur humble abode in just a few days. how fun is that??!! _

_ why am i doin this u ask? well a lil birdy (not sayin names) told me that davey is staying his winter break with you this year so u know i gotta come over for xmas _

_ u better be ok w/ this becus im comin over no matter what! get ready ;) _

 

_sincerely,_

_ur favorite gamer roxy_

You don’t have much to say. Are you happy? Mmm. It'll be nice to finally see your only friends after so long. Basically, right now you’re just in a state of acceptance. You only sigh and fold the letter back up. Whelp, let's see how this goes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's extra.   
> -  
> Pssssst. I know this is short, but I think I'll be able to write chapters less than three months apart now? Finals are here, but after that I should be good to go when it comes to free time. (No promises though)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna go pass out. The next chapter is over 3,000 words long and I'll post it either tomorrow or the next day.  
> -  
> Y'know, I really tempted to do that thing where you quote a song that's relevant to the fanfiction, but the only song that I could think of was The No Pants Dance by TWRP? Not that there aren't any others, but I just couldn't stop thinking of it.  
> Also, if you don't know what I'm talking about (I doubt you do) and you want to, here's the music video: https://youtu.be/gFNXlShMc9E


End file.
